The Sons of Isaac
Page 13
“We must be patient and wait.”
Rebekah ran to the sleeping mat rolled out in the corner and, kneeling down, drew out the small, carefully wrapped packet. Then coming back to kneel beside Isaac, she said, “Here’s what women depend on who want children.” She unwrapped the packet to reveal the small image of the fertility goddess of Ur.
Isaac drew back as though he had been slapped. He frowned and shook his head when she tried to hand him the little image. “Where did this ugly thing come from?” he demanded.
“Rebekah’s mother gave it to me as we were leaving,” Deborah said.
“And you brought this from Haran?”
“Yes, my lord. It’s one of the small images from Ur made by your grandfather Terah. It is very powerful in matters that concern women.”
“From Ur?” Isaac said.
“My family in Haran kept favor with all the gods,” Rebekah said.
Isaac jumped to his feet in great agitation. “We must destroy it quickly before my father hears of it. He’ll not be pleased to know there’s such a thing in our camp.”
“No,” Rebekah cried, hiding it behind her back. “I’ll die childless without her. Even the shepherds and their wives know one must depend on a goddess to have children.”
Isaac frowned and pulled at his beard. His eyes were piercing and stern. “And who would you thank for a child gotten by such means?” Both Deborah and Rebekah shrank back, but Rebekah still kept the image behind her back, clutched firmly in her hand.
“It must be destroyed. Come, give it to me. I’ll have it done away with.” He held out his hand, but Rebekah clung to it with all the more determination.
“You are afraid of your father,” Rebekah cried, turning her face away so she would not have to see the look in his eyes. “This small image will do no harm and it is my only hope for a child.”
“So,” he said, “you are depending on a lifeless bit of molded clay instead of the living, creator God.” He struggled to understand this strange turn of events.
At that Rebekah brought her hand out where she could look at the small image more closely. It was, as he said, rather ugly but carefully molded of brown clay. “You must not think of destroying it,” she said. “It’s very old. The only thing I have that was made by my great-grandfather. It’s quite precious.”
“If you’re depending on this ugly clay image to give you a child, who knows what you’ll get. We can be sure it will not be the child Elohim has promised.”
Rebekah gave a startled cry. “How can you say such a thing? This is my last chance. I can’t give it up.” With that she sank down among the cushions and buried her face in her folded arms with the little image still clutched tightly in her hand.
Isaac squatted beside her and spoke gently. “Surely you can see that this lifeless bit of clay can’t give you a living child.”
Rebekah straightened up and held the image out where she could see it again. For a long moment she was silent, taking in its pinched face, slitted eyes, slightly rounded stomach, and the legs tightly pressed together. “If I give her to you, are you going to destroy her?”
“She must be destroyed. Even if my grandfather made her and she is very old.”
“Why can’t I keep her and you pray to Elohim for a child?”
“And if the child comes, who will you thank?”
Rebekah stared at the little image in her hand as though she were seeing it in a new light. “I would thank Elohim.”
“And the little image?”
There was a long silence. When she spoke it was so softly Isaac could hardly hear what she said. “I’d think the little goddess had somehow brought it about.”
“And what would you tell the other women?”
Tears came in Rebekah’s eyes. “I would probably loan them the little goddess if they could not get pregnant.”
“And the child? What would you tell the child?”
Rebekah began to sob softly as she studied the ugly little figurine. Her tears splashed on its pinched face, and she wiped them off with a corner of her mantle. She could not speak. She covered her face with one hand, and with the other held the image out to Isaac. “You can do with her as you please. I cannot bear to destroy her myself.”
Isaac took the little figure and stuffed it quickly into his belt. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll see that she is destroyed. Then I’ll make special entreaty of Elohim for our child.”
Rebekah turned and buried her face in the cushions and wept while Isaac motioned to Deborah to comfort her. “I’ll be back later, but now I must tend to this thing lest she change her mind.”
* * *
News leaked out about the small idol and Isaac’s entreaty for his wife. The whole camp waited and watched to see what would happen. They feared for Rebekah’s sanity and were divided as to what harm could have been done in letting her keep the small image. “It was made in Ur by old Terah. It undoubtedly held special powers,” some said.
Others were shocked to hear that right in the tent of Isaac’s wife such a thing had been hidden. As it turned out, when within a few weeks it was discovered Rebekah was pregnant, both groups rejoiced and marveled at such a miracle.
Wonderful predictions were made as they contemplated the birth of this child. “Of course it will be a boy,” they all agreed.
* * *
From the very first, the pregnancy was not the joyful event they all had envisioned. When Isaac threw a great feast to celebrate and invited all their friends and relatives, Rebekah was confined to her tent. The very smell of roast lamb or a bowl of lentils made her dizzy and nauseated. She could drink only warm water and could eat only the rounded loaves of plain bread. “The child will never develop,” the old midwives predicted. She must eat.
They plied her with every kind of choice morsel, to no avail. The roasted pigeons were turned away at the tent door, and the very smell of the savory stew she had once loved made her even more ill. Finally dried figs were brought, and succulent melons, but nothing solved the problem.
In the fifth month, when she was finally able to eat, she began to suffer from a new problem. “I feel that something is very wrong,” she would say. “There’s a constant twisting and tugging day and night in my stomach. I can’t sleep. I can’t even sit comfortably.”
Again the midwives gathered, and they too had to admit it was unusual. When they put their hands on her stomach, they could feel the violent movement. “She has no rest day or night,” they reported.
For Rebekah it was not only a time of frustration and pain but also a time of puzzlement. “This is not the child of the goddess but the child my husband prayed for to Elohim. Why should it be this way? I’ve done everything my husband asked of me. I let him destroy the little idol and now I am in this torment. Why has this happened?”
Some women suggested it was the revenge of the earth goddess and others refused to admit that anything was unusual. Isaac was as deeply perplexed as Rebekah, and so at last he went to his father, Abraham, and asked what should be done. “I have no doubt, since it is in Elohim’s hands, it will turn out all right,” Abraham said. “However, if she is concerned then tell her to inquire of Elohim.”
“But she is a woman and …”
“My son, I learned a great lesson from Hagar. The angel appeared to her and comforted her. She was an Egyptian, she wasn’t familiar with our ways, and yet her prayer was heard.”
Isaac sat awhile longer with his father and then excused himself and went back to tell Rebekah his father’s astonishing response. Rebekah was still sitting by a small fire of thorns, rocking back and forth, her arms folded over her stomach in an effort to get some relief. Deborah and two of her handmaidens were with her, but when Isaac appeared they quickly left. Isaac sat beside her and waited for a few moments before speaking.
“And what does your father say?” Rebekah asked at last.
“He says for you yourself to go inquire of Elohim. This is the only way you will be comforted.”
“I inquire? I remember asking for a husband when my brother Laban was going to have me marry an old man named Nazzim.”
“And what happened?”
“Eleazar came and rescued me.”
“Then you did inquire of Elohim?”
“I didn’t know anything about Him. I just knew He was the God of my uncle Abraham and I was desperate.”
“For my father it is all very simple. When I was a child he used to tell me to go talk to Elohim just as I would come to him.”
“Go to Elohim? How do I go to Him? We can’t see Him. I’m just a woman. I can’t build altars or make sacrifices.”
“That’s what’s so strange. My father builds altars and makes sacrifices, but he also talks to Elohim as though He’s his friend.”
They said no more about the problem but sat by the fire until it had burned down to a few glowing coals. And then Isaac picked Rebekah up and carried her in and placed her on the mat Deborah had rolled out. He rubbed her back and cradled her in his arms until he could hear the soft, steady breathing and knew she was at last asleep. He stayed with her until morning and then quietly slipped out to meet his men who were going to check one of the new wells that had been dug.
* * *
Rebekah pondered the strange turn of events. Though she had heard the story of Hagar many times, it had never occurred to her that a woman could talk to Elohim in the same way she would talk to her grandfather or her husband. When she had cried out to Him in Haran and asked Him to rescue her from marrying Nazzim, she had prayed no formal prayer. It had been simply a plea for help. When Eleazar came, she had assumed it was all in answer to Abraham’s prayer for his son.
She went over in her mind the names she had heard for this God of her husband. Isaac referred to Him as El Shaddai when he talked about His power and strength and El-Elyon, or the most high God, when explaining that He was above all angels and powers of the air. She had heard Him also called Jehovah-Jirah, the God who provides, and Elohim, the creator God. She must think first of all what name she would call Him if she was to do this unusual thing.
As the days passed she decided she would feel more comfortable talking to Him as Elohim, creator God. She had been reminded that He had made the flowers she loved and had caused the sheep to birth the little lambs. He had made the water that flowed by in the brook Besor and even the sun and the moon with all their beauty. All of nature began to take on a new aspect to her. She was coming to know the creator God by the beauty He had created, and she felt a growing wonder and love for Him she had not thought possible.
Finally on a day in early spring, while out looking for fresh herbs, she came upon a lovely sight. She had grown tired and wandered off from the others. She was about to sit on a projection of rock when she saw flashes of bright red on the northeastern slope of a rocky hillside. Upon investigation she found a cluster of tulips. They were a brilliant red and were known by the shepherds as bloody tulips.
Isaac had pointed out the plant when it was but a single thin waving leaf. “In three or four years,” he had said, “if conditions are favorable, the plant will put out three leaves. Soon after that a single spike will begin growing from the center, and in a very short while there will be the most beautiful red tulip.”
She had often seen the thin waving leaf but never the tulips Isaac had described to her. Now she knelt to see the lovely, delicate flowers more closely. She sat back on her heels and marveled. It was such a lovely sight. Several were open, but others were still closed. They were not to be picked, as they would soon die and the bright petals fall. She could hardly contain the wonder of the moment. It had taken these little plants three or four years to produce these bright beauties. How much like herself, she thought. This little plant had taken so long to come to this moment of fulfillment and it had been fashioned that way by Elohim. How very strange and wonderful.
Isaac had said his father often told him there was a pattern in nature. It was left up to man to learn the patterns and not waste time begging Elohim to change the pattern. This little flower would come in its season and not before. Isaac accepted this and was not bothered by periods of waiting that so disturbed her.
As she sat looking at the delicate red flowers, she understood that she too was being fruitful at the appointed time, when the conditions were right. A great joy filled her heart. She felt that Elohim had let her find the lovely bright flowers just to give her this message. “Then why,” she asked, “am I in this torment? Why, if this is Your plan, should I have no peace?”
She had not expected an answer, but to her surprise she heard a voice speaking to her. It was distinct and the message was concise. “Two nations are in your womb,” the voice said. “The one people will be stronger than the other, and the elder will serve the younger.”
The voice ceased but the words “the elder shall serve the younger” echoed in her mind over and over as she pondered what it might mean.
Slowly she got to her feet and hurried to find Deborah and her other maidens. She didn’t join in the happy banter and didn’t even ask what herbs they had found. She was totally preoccupied with what had happened to her and the message she had been given.
When she finally arrived at her tent, she entered the cool darkness and sank onto the cushions completely exhausted. Almost immediately, her small serving maid, Tesha, came, and she sent her to find Isaac. She could hardly wait to tell him all that had happened to her. Elohim had spoken just as Abraham had suggested, and the message was strange and wonderful.
She had expected Isaac to be as excited as she was, but to her chagrin, she found him paying very little attention to the message. Instead, he was mainly pleased that she was no longer anxious. “But what does it mean?” she asked. “The elder shall serve the younger?”
Isaac puzzled over it a moment. “Are you sure that is what you heard?” he asked hesitantly. “It doesn’t sound right. To have twins would be unusual, but it would be against all tradition and custom for the elder to serve the younger.”
Rebekah looked down at the cushion and fingered the fringe. “I was so sure … but …”
Isaac hugged her. “It’s going to be all right. Everything’s going to be all right,” he said. “Whether you have one child or two doesn’t matter; you are going to have a child and that is what is important.”
She pulled away and looked at him. “But I was so sure …”
“Of course, I understand.” He pulled her to him and gently kissed her forehead where her mantle had fallen away. “This is all so hard for you but it will all be over soon.”
Rebekah pulled away and took some time adjusting her mantle. She didn’t want him to see how disappointed she was. She had expected such a different reception. He patted her hand and then rose and strode out through the opening in the tent.
She sat very still pondering all that had happened. How had she thought Elohim would really bother to speak to a troubled woman? No matter what Isaac had said, it was evident he didn’t really believe Elohim had actually bothered to speak to her.
She gave a groan as the churning and twisting suddenly seized her. She bent over, clutching her stomach. Sweat broke out on her forehead as she stuffed the end of her mantle in her mouth and bit down hard. He was right about one thing: it was getting close to her confinement. It wouldn’t be long now. However painful the birth might be, it would be a relief to be rid of this constant upheaval.
As quickly as the struggle had seized her, it stopped, and she sank back into the cushions exhausted. She stretched her fingers out over her bulging stomach and breathed deeply. “I was so sure,” she murmured.
* * *
It was within that week that the birth pains began and the birthing stool was moved into her tent. Deborah hurried to get the folded swath of fine linen for the swaddling clothes while others busied themselves getting extra water from the well and the salt for rubbing the newborn. They stopped only to spread the news that Rebekah was about to have the long-awaited child.
Within minutes the old midwife held up a screaming, struggling infant. “It’s a boy! He’s healthy and strong,” she shouted.
“He’s covered with soft red hair like a lion’s cub,” another exclaimed as she rubbed the child with oil and salt and wrapped him quickly in the swaddling clothes, ready to take him outside the tent where Isaac waited impatiently.
“There is yet another child coming. I saw a hand clutching the heel of this one,” the old midwife had exclaimed, but no one but Rebekah heard her. The women had all followed the first midwife outside the tent. Isaac was given the child. Immediately the somber mood changed and there was dancing and singing and exclaiming over the rugged health of the child. “He is beautiful to see with soft, red hair and a strong cry,” they chanted and sang.
Even when one of the serving girls rushed out to tell them another child was being born, they paid no attention. Isaac was laughing and exclaiming over the child he held. He wept tears of joy and cried with a loud voice, “This is the child of promise, my firstborn, the child who will inherit the birthright and the blessing. We will call him Esau because of his redness.”
In the tent Rebekah held out her arms and asked to hold the second child, who had arrived quietly without the attention or fanfare of the first. There had been no swaddling cloth to wrap him in, so he was hastily rubbed with oil and salt and wrapped in Rebekah’s head cloth. The old midwife studied him a moment. “He’s a scrawny, poor one, not healthy and strong like the other.”
Rebekah hungrily clasped the small bundle and cradled him in her arms. She studied his little face. His eyes were shut tight, giving his features a worried look that tugged at her heart. She marveled at his small, perfect ears and ran her finger around his face and gently touched his mouth so that he gave a small sucking motion. She smiled as she examined his tiny hand and thought how the midwife had cried out that his hand had been clutching the heel of his brother.